From clandestine affairs and domestic abuse to the internal politics of a family at war, the result is a tangled web of human weaknesses. The problem? It’s a web with a lot of holes.
Described as explosive in its publicity material, too often the show’s attempted pyrotechnics fall flat. Some scenes are ramped up to the melodramatic max; others disappointingly underdeveloped. And at the centre of the narrative is Andrew Cleaver’s psychologist, a man so unsympathetic as to make one question how he acquired a licence to practise.
The cast do generate some moments of genuine discomfort. The increasingly sadistic nature of Helen’s relationship with her ex-boyfriend is made all the more shocking by the knowledge that this really happened to actress Helen Briscoe. Shireen Walton demonstrates both comic timing and pathos in her separate strands of the narrative. And the strongest storyline, concerning a playground bully-turned-teacher whose former victim joins the staff of her current school, allows Ishbel Nicol room for some mature characterisation.
The overall feel, however, is of a school project gone wrong, an impression not helped by the set design: a collaged backdrop unevenly plastered with buzzwords and newspaper cuttings. The Cock is an exciting addition to London’s tavern theatre scene. Sadly, Secrets, for all its ambition, is not the show to make its name.